Knife In The Dark
by hypoesthesia
Summary: [killua/reader] As an assassin, he was hired to run after you and kill you, but then your compassionate attitude melted away the coldness of his heart, and he couldn't bring himself to strike you with his knife.
1. prologue

**I'm obsessed with Killua lately.**

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 **[His Smile]**

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His eyes were cold and wild, glaring at you, as a frown etched on his face. He stood above you darkly, his dagger in hand, and you backed away as best as you could.

But you were weak.

There was not much you could do but flail. The cold metal reflected the light of the moon, and a shiver chilled you. You closed your eyes.

"Please. . ."

But there was nothing in him to hear you. There was only murderous intent.

When you opened your eyes again, you saw something you never thought would frighten you: his smile, wide, and dark, twisted in an insane smirk as he raised his blade above you, ready to strike.

And he brought it down. . .


	2. I: Thwarted

**[Thwarted]**

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There was a knife in the dark.

The assassin had brought down his knife, ready to plunge down the insides of your chest. He was ready to take your life.

You didn't have a shield to protect you. You were too weak, too vulnerable. You couldn't do anything else to possibly defend yourself against him. Seeing you in such a pitiful state fired up his blood lust.

And that is why it came as a shock to him when you suddenly lifted a shaking hand and started to trace the numerous scars running down the skin of his own arms with your fingers.

"Your arms. . ."

Wait, what?

His plans of quickly taking your life was immediately thwarted with such a simple move.

He halted in his actions, the knife he was currently holding was dangerously placed just above your beating heart. One wrong move and that knife will end up piercing through you.

"What happened to them?" you whispered softly, delicately, like the sounds of a wind chime swaying gently against the cool breeze.

This time, you left him frozen like a statue. He was speechless, doing nothing but remaining silent and pressing his chapped lips together into a thin line. He didn't like where this situation was taking its direction.

His once slacked grip on the handle of his knife tightened, deciding that he should end things right now. And fast.

Unfortunately, it suddenly became too difficult for him take his own orders. He scrunched up his eyebrows in sheer frustration and puzzlement. Why couldn't he kill you right on the spot? All he had to do was sink his knife deep into your flesh and the deed was done—just like what he does to his other victims.

"That's none of your business," he spat coldly, his glare on you turning darker.

That's right. His scars were none of your business. You shouldn't be concerning about them in the first place. In fact, you should be more concerned for your own life right now.

For a moment there, he managed to snap out of his daze and getting rid of his hesitation. He proceeded to press the tip of his knife against your neck this time, drawing out a small amount of blood. Perhaps you'll take it as a threat and shut up.

"Now, if you'll be a good little girl and not struggle, I'll do you a favor and end this as quick as possible."

But to his dismay, the worried look you continued to send his way threw him off the roof once again.

Which made him realize that you did not even fear him from the very beginning.

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 **Review.**


	3. II: Warm Embrace

**[Warm Embrace]**

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You didn't fear him. He feared you.

Yes, that was the cold, hard truth that he refuses to accept.

Sure, you didn't put much of a fight when he tried to restrain you,

You looked at him wearily, worriedly, and instead of giving in to his offer, you refused to listen to it and scanned his arms for more minor injuries, much to the assassin's dismay. He flinched when you raised one finger to caress one of his scars, which caused him to flinch and pull back immediately, to the point wherein he stood up, away from you.

He didn't have any time left to spare. He had to end this. Now. He gritted his teeth under the dirty grey cowl he was wearing, covering his entire facial features, with the exemption of his icy blue eyes.

"Let me treat them or they'll get infected," your face scrunched up to a worried look. "You can't just leave them to bleed like that without applying treatment to it."

He gasped exasperatedly.

". . . I don't need it." He answered hesitantly but sharply, staring at you in disbelief. Right now, he couldn't tell whether your were sincere or just feigning concern over his wounds to distract him and get out this mess. The problem was, he was easily distracted himself and is unable to focus on his mission of taking your life with his bare hands anymore.

How could you ask such a question to him and worry more about his wounds than your own life which he was about to take? None of his victims never acted this way and took notice of his scars. Well, maybe they did, but were entirely in sheer panic to take a quick scan (not that the assassin was interested in showing them off to his victims anyways). Why, just a few minutes ago he was ready to strike this girl, kill her. But now, he wasn't so sure. The murderous intent in his eyes was long gone and was replaced with confusion.

Seeing the assassin looking very puzzled, you sat up properly and suddenly cupped his cold, ashen face with your dainty hands, causing him to widen his dull sapphire eyes and stiffen upon the contact, dropping the knife he possessed with a klunk.

"Let me take care of them, please. . ." You begged, staring up at him with those eyes.

Your hands were so warm against his cold cheeks it made him want to lean in to the touch, but he avoided that as much as possible, no matter how much he wanted to do it. Seeing those gentle eyes of yours made his legs suddenly feel all wobbly and jelly-like. There was this gut-wrenching feeling in his stomach. Why are you making him feel this way now?

"I'm taking your silence as a yes," you smiled lovingly, caressing his face. "Can you tell me your name?"

The boy hanged his head low as he felt his heart pouring out. He closed his eyes, feeling his body betray him as he ended up leaning against your soft hand weakly.

After some time, he re-opened them to stare at you tiredly, causing your eyes to soften.

"It's Killua. . ."


End file.
